Wedded and bedded
by kouw
Summary: That first night together is met with no small amount of trepidation
1. Chapter 1

She spent her last night as spinster worrying about the wedding. She knew Mrs Patmore and Daisy had the catering well in hand, but she was concerned about all the details that she previously thought she had addressed sufficiently. She wondered if there were enough chairs so the guests could all be seated for the wedding breakfast. She hoped that the vicar hadn't come down with an unfortunate cold.

For long moments had she thought about what would come _after_ the wedding.

They're both two feet over the threshold of the room they've rented for a few days; the Scarborough beach lies yards away and she can hear the waves crashing on the shore. Next to her is her husband and in front of them a double bed that's been pulled away from the wall a few inches.

Words spoken over the past few weeks ring in her ears. He wants them to be as close as two people can be. He loves her. He spoke of her grace and charm; that he couldn't believe his luck. Right now she doesn't think she is being particularly charming and certainly not graceful. Nerves are coiling in her stomach: the next step into her wedded life is so close now.

Beside her, Charles isn't moving either.

The silence - normally so comfortable between them - is closing in, making her feel even more uncomfortable and she wishes he would speak. Say something. Anything. But she can hear him breathing: short shallow breaths that give away his unease.

The bed looms big and daunting. Twilight is setting in and the clock is ticking loudly: every second adding to her sense of foreboding.

She hears Charles put down his old, battered suitcase. The one that has seen countless London seasons. Weeks they spent apart until that one season Mrs Bute fell ill and she was summoned to step in. The summer that set everything in motion; that afternoon on the beach, the cold water lapping at their toes, hands clasped together:

"You can always hold my hand if you need to feel steady."

She reaches out and feels his fingers curl around hers and she lets out an audible sigh.

His hand is warm against her cold, clammy palm and he gently gives her a squeeze. She shuffles a little closer to him and her arm touches his. He is wearing his summer coat and she is still in the gifted evening coat, so expertly altered to fit by Miss Baxter.

He clears his throat and takes a step, pulling her further into the room. There is barely space to swing a cat: they had agreed upon taking a modest room. They aren't used to extravagant spending (even though he bought them a house) and they are not young. They don't need everyone to know what they'll get up to in this room.

She swallows as she think of what lies ahead. Of what they'll get up to. What it might be like. She has imagined how his skin might feel like and how it would be to share a bed together. Ponderings about night clothes and underwear and how many pillows he might like.

She purchased extra strong tooth powder in the village and a new toothbrush. A new piece of soap and talcum powder. Necessities pondered upon in a whole new light: the thought of how Mr Carson might perceive her.

She is no Theda Bara and she hasn't much to seduce her husband with. Not that she would know how.

So here they stand, hand in hand, and neither of them seems to know how to move forward.

* * *

After an age (or five minutes) she takes off her hat with one shaking hand and holds it by the rim. The new styles don't require much in terms of pins and the hairstyles aren't as elaborate as they once were. Next to her, Charles takes off his bowler and he turns to put it on the stand in the corner, letting go of her hand. She follows him, putting her hat down next to his and she briefly wonders if that's the sides they'll choose in the bed.

"Let me help you with your coat," Charles offers. His voice sounds oddly quiet and she finds her mouth has gone quite dry. She lets him slide the exquisite coat down her arms and watches as he puts it on a hanger and hangs it before he shrugs out of his own.

Their coats hang neatly under their hats as if it means nothing. As if it's never been any different.

She watches Charles as he looks at her. She knows her dress is very plain without the coat; it reminds her of her parlour maid's uniform she wore once upon a time.

When her bottom was still firm and her breasts were a perky handful that didn't need any support to look enticing.

Long ago.

She knows Charles told Mrs Patmore that he thought her beautiful. But he has never seen her without her clothes on and she never expected - not really - that the day would come when he would. She doesn't know what she might expect when she sees him undressed either. She's never seen a man in the nude. Well, statues perhaps - but Mr Carson isn't made of cold, unforgiving marble.

Last night she tried to imagine what it might feel like if his hands touched her. She tried to picture him kissing her the way she had seen them do in the movies - the very few she has seen.

But she came up short.

Once upon a time Joe Burns courted her chastely and she didn't go into his advances much. She's as untouched as she was when she left the farm, a blushing lass of not yet sixteen. Her sheltered life - protected first by other housekeepers and later by her position and her withering stares - has in no way prepared her for this moment. This moment where her new husband slowly turns to kiss her, and not as confidently as he did in front of the church.

His lips land slightly crookedly on hers and he pulls back quickly, startled. She looks up at him, her teeth digging into her lower lip. Seeing him as much at a loose end as she is, somehow makes her feel a bit better. She assumed that Mr Carson would take the lead. That he would show her what to do; which steps to take. She thought that during all those seasons in London he would have visited someone to amuse him. After all, didn't they say that all men are the same and no man can live without?

Their hands find each other again, steadying and warming. Together they take a step towards the bed and Elsie can feel how her breath is shaking and a tremor in her husband's hand.

He lifts his other hand to cup her cheek and speaks softly:

"You look very beautiful."

"Thank you," she answers breathily.

He softly strokes her cheek and she can feel her blush warming the pad of his thumb.

He leans in to kiss her again and this time it goes better. He pulls his hand from hers and lays it on her waist and he gently pulls her a bit closer, his lips staying firmly on hers.

She tilts her head a bit and experiments with the pressure of her lips against his and she is surprised when she feels Charles lips open slightly as they still kiss her. Her arms wrap around Charles's neck. His hand leaves her cheek and the hand that was on her waist now slides around her to the small of her back and lower

She leans against him, almost melting into him. The tip of his tongue touches hers and she lets her own press back, moves it as well as her lips. She breathes through her nose. Her hand plays with the tiny curls in his neck.

A quiet sense of understanding starts thrumming in her veins.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you, onmyside, for your help and thank you everyone for your kind encouragement


	2. Chapter 2

She's heard that hum before. A contented little sound that leaves her husband's body when he kisses her. Happiness and peace rolled into one. But the hum is deeper this time, matching their kiss. The hands that were chastely touching her are moving to wrap around her. She can feel his fingers flutter where her back meets her bottom and she holds her breath.

Startled, Charles pulls away from their kiss, lets her go.

"I am sorry… that was much too forward," Charles says, looking contrite.

She closes the distance between them again, not wanting to be without the warmth he provided earlier. Without his touch.

"I don't think it was," she says shyly.

It's a strange sensation to feel this unsure. The past decades she's been someone in charge. Someone others looked up to for guidance and leadership - it has been a good while since she felt out of her depth. That feeling of not knowing quite what to expect, of giddy nervousness, first returned when Mr Carson took her hand that day at the beach. While she steadied him, he made her feel shaky.

She looks up and finds her husband looking intently at her lips. A blush creeps to her cheeks and she looks away again.

"You don't?" Charles's voice sounds darker than it usually does. Slightly breathless, too.

She shakes her head.

"Might I…" He pulls up his shoulder into a half-shrug and she nods rapidly.

Their noses bump together when they both initiate the kiss they are anticipating. Charles gently touches her nose with soothing fingers. When he leans in again, Elsie stays very still until his lips are firmly planted on hers.

Her heart is beating fast, but it's not uncomfortable. They gently sway from side to side, as if they're dancing to a soundless tune. Thoughts of what will come next flit through her mind, obscured by the sensation of his hand caressing her waist again, his arm stealing around her like before. She runs her hand down his lapel, onto his shirt. She can feel the beating of his heart against her palm.

He pulls her even closer, kisses her more ardently. His hand presses firmly against the lacing of her corset, a little noise spills over into from hers into Charles's mouth. In the back of her mind she wonders if that was really her.

When he breaks off the kiss and they are trying to catch their breath, foreheads pressed together, Charles tries to find the hooks and bars of her dress with a trembling hand. She nods almost imperceptibly - but it is clear enough to him.

Slowly her wedding dress comes undone. She works Charles's tie loose with remarkably steady hands. His collar feels stiff when she removes it. She looks around to find a place to put it down and he takes it from her with a bit of a smile. He lays it on the chair next to the bed and returns to her. He takes her hand.

* * *

Had they been forty years younger, they'd have stumbled to the bed, unhindered by their current worries and lack of experience. She would have giggled and flirted and he would have cared little for the garments she wore.

Now however, Elsie undoes her husband's waistcoat button for button and pushes it off his shoulders. Charles makes to take it from her again but she frowns.

"Perhaps we should…" she says and moves a little towards the chair that holds a lonely collar.

Charles nods and she can see him swallow.

The bed has been neatly made - though the corners lack a bit of tightness. How strange she notices this - that this fragile moment can be cut by something so mundane. When she turns towards Charles - her dress half undone, the cool air on the bare skin of her upper back - he runs his thumb over the imprint on her lips where her teeth have repeatedly sunk into the plumpness over the years.

His fingertips are warm on her cheek.

They're still standing close together, pushing the moment they'll have to turn down the bed forward. Elsie reaches out to unbutton her husband's shirt. His eyes are so intently upon her that she cannot help but blush. The warmth in her cheeks intensifies when she sees the sparse silvery hair that tickles her palm. His vest is bright white - it must be new. She thinks about her slip: an indulgence provided by the women who helped her get ready in the morning.

Had they known that Mr Carson was going to be the one helping her out of lavender dress?

She had thought that she would change into her nightgown in the bathroom. She planned on brushing her teeth with the new brush and tooth powder she had acquired. She would wash herself thoroughly and then return to the room.

Most likely.

Right now she is almost certain she would have locked herself in and had not come out until morning. The worry and anxiety of what lies ahead would have been too much to act calmly and rationally.

Charles undoing hook and bar one by one, his soft breath against her neck tickles - but not in the way her mother would tickle her when she was a child. Those tickles made her cry out with laughter. This soft tickling makes her let out quiet little whimpers. Sounds she's never heard herself utter. Sounds that seem to have an effect on her husband.

When he reaches the final hook, he kisses her where his breath has been caressing her and she gasps. His mouth travels over her jawline and back to her lips, kissing her deeply. The sensation of being kissed like that is something she doubts she'll ever get used to.

Her hands work his shirt off and she marvels at the softness of his skin. There are little marks that she can feel against the pads of her fingers. It reminds her of a book she once saw in Becky's home - written in braille. As if Charles's whole life story is marked in his skin.

* * *

Twilight is shrouding the room in dark shadows. Elsie has helped Charles out of his shirt and they've not progressed any further yet. Expectations she daren't have before are fighting for dominance in her mind. The tension around them feels thick and heavy.

"You know…" she starts, trying to break the strain somewhat; "I think this may the first time we've been together alone, uninterrupted, for more than half an hour."

Charles nods slowly. "I think you're right."

They both try to smile.

"No bells," Charles says and he pulls at her right sleeve.

"No bells," she echoes, holding her breath.

He pulls at her left sleeve next and the bodice comes down, revealing her new peach-coloured satin slip. She sees Charles clench his fists. She is glad it's getting dark; it's easier to bear his silence when they are partially obscured from view. She wraps her arms around herself, shielding herself. When Charles steps closer, he tenderly runs his hand over her arm.

"You're very beautiful," he says, touching the straps of the slip and the camisole underneath.

She's wearing layer upon layer and she's never felt this exposed. Even when Doctor Clarkson examined her, she didn't feel as naked as she feels now.

"Thank you," she manages to mumble through her unease.

"Do you want to…" Charles asks and Elsie makes an odd movement that is half shrug and half nod.

When he takes her in his arms, he isn't as shy as he was before. His kiss is more confident, his hands sliding over her arms and shoulders bolder in their movements. She lets him sweep her up in the moment and tries not to worry when he slides the strap of her slip down.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you, mrpoohnminnie, your PM was instrumental and thank you onmyside for your twitter ingenuity and the awesomeness that came forth from that.  
Thank you **everybody** for your encouragement.


	3. Chapter 3

He runs his finger along her collarbone and boldly slips down the strap of her camisole too. He kisses her bare shoulder.

"Freckles," he mumbles. "Like constellations."

Only Charles could think of something so poetic about the plainest of things, she thinks. When she realises that she just called him 'Charles' to herself, she smiles and she leans in a bit closer.

"What is it?" he asks.

"I just thought that it is very wonderful to be able to call you by your name," she says.

"I hope to hear it often," he says and pauses. "Elsie."

She rests her forehead on his chest. She feels the rise and fall of his breathing and the warmth of his palm through her corset.

Her corset and herself - the only two things in Charles's arms that aren't new. Both Anna and Miss Baxter had tried to persuade her to try a brassiere, but she knew she wouldn't feel comfortable without the armour she'd been wearing since she was a lass of not sixteen.

Not that she is entirely comfortable now.

Charles's hand runs up her back a bit, tracing the lacing through her slip. He slowly pushes the strap from her other shoulder. Then the strap of her camisole. The slip starts to fall down her back first and then down the front too as he takes a minute step back.

She shivers as the cool air nips at the naked skin of her thighs. Her garters hold up her stockings and she watches Charles as his eyes are drawn to the clips and ruffled edges. The satin of her underwear whispers against her bottom.

Charles boldly, almost shockingly, moves to kiss her again. His lips demanding this time, his hands not satisfied with lying still on her hip and waist. His fingers map out the edges and ridges of the corset and run down the suspenders in the back. She holds her breath when his hand slips off the wide band and runs his finger along it over the thin satin. His breathing matches hers and her fingers wrap around his arm, squeezing involuntarily as she lets out a little sound.

Another blush covers her cheeks. She never realised there would be any sound involved besides perhaps the creaking of the bed. Hearing him hum softly when they kissed that first time had been surprising. As surprising as the way her body is practically buzzing under his hands.

He explores the small space that lies bare between her stockings and the lace trim of her knickers. The warmth of his hand on the outside of her thigh makes her breath hitch again and she lets it out in little bursts as he gradually moves it around, over the suspender in the back to the soft skin of her inner thigh.

They are so close together now, she can feel him stirring against her through his trousers. She starts pulling his vest from the waistband and softly scratches his skin. She wishes she could feel him closer against her, but to do so, she'll have to remove her corset.

* * *

Charles finally dropping his trousers is more shocking to Elsie than she could have predicted. She doesn't know where to look when confronted with the stark white briefs and muscular legs.

He has remarkably knobbly knees.

When she peeks up from the floor and her slip that's still draped half over her feet, he is looking apologetic and cold.

"Do you want to get under the covers?" she asks, her voice steady but small

He nods and reaches for the blankets; pulls them back. He sits down and swings his legs up and in. He turns away and plumps her pillow. When he's opened the covers in a perfect triangle, Elsie walks around the bed and hesitates before joining him.

"What is it?"

Elsie takes a breath and points her corset-clad waist.

"Oh…" Charles breathes with sudden realisation and he clambers to his knees.

Her hands are cold upon her stocking and she unclips the first garter with uncooperating fingers. She finds her husband watching with engrossed focus. When she places her foot on the edge of the bed to undo the clip in the back, he carefully rolls the silk stocking down her thigh, over her knee and calf. He leans back and lifts her foot, slipping off her stocking and placing it on the covers.

Her fingernails are pressed firmly into the softness of her palms, trying not to make a sound. When Charles turns his attention to her other stocking, she cannot help but let out a little whimper when the side of his thumb runs along the soft skin of her inner thigh. She has to grab his shoulder in order not to fall.

When both stockings lie together, Charles puts his arm around her waist and Elsie cups his cheeks as they kiss again. The sensation of Charles's skin against her skin has ignited a craving for more in her and she traces a line from cheek over temple to trace the outline of the shell of his ear. His lips are demanding and soft at the same time and her mind is returning to the same thing time and again:

Kissing is heavenly.

Kissing also grants her husband courage. The hands that were at her waist and sliding down her legs, are starting to map out more of her body. Long strokes over her arms, bumping over the strap of her camisole. Fluttering touches on her back along the edge of her corset. Lips no longer on hers but on her cheek, her jawbone, the side of her neck. The back of his fingers sliding down her collarbone towards the swell of her breasts - still encased in their protective shell.

He connects her freckles with the tip of his nose as he kisses what's visible of her cleavage.

Had she thought his breath hot against her earlier, it's almost cool now as she breaks out in a flush. Another contained little sound leaves her mouth and she clamps her lips together. Her hand lands on the nap of Charles' neck as he places kisses all along the lacy top of her corset. Her blood is racing in her veins and her feet are cold against the wooden floor.

"Will you show me?" Charles whispers, his cheek against her breastbone.

She nods.

Placing her fingers on the sides of the fasteners, Elsie pushes the first hook and button open. Then the second. By the third she tries not to tremble when her fingers are joined by her husband's. The fourth one unhooks and the sides start falling away. The fifth. The sixth and the corset falls to the floor as Elsie's chest expands with the first full breath since Mrs Patmore, Anna and Miss Baxter helped her get ready in the morning.

The first full breath in front of her husband.

Who is looking at her as if she's made of dreamed up clouds and spun gold.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you everybody for your support, I really appreciate it.


	4. Chapter 4

The curtain waltzes in the breeze coming from the cracked open window and in the fading daylight Elsie Carson watches her husband's face. They are both on their sides, facing each other. She runs one foot over the other calf and bumps her knee against Charles's leg.

"Sorry," she says, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

"That's alright."

His hand lands on the outside of her thigh. The warmth radiates further upwards and she swallows hard. When he slowly rubs his thumb back and forth, a barely audible moan manages to creep out from between her lips.

The sheets rustle as they both move a little closer together. She stretches out her arm and her hand is on his hip. His hand is moving upwards towards the edges of her knickers. She can feel him holding his breath when the very tips of his fingers caress the crease where her bottom meets her legs.

She gasps, shocked by the way his touch makes her quiver.

"Have I hurt you?" Charles asks and she shakes her head.

"No… not at all. No. I'm just…"

She looks up at him, gauges the worry she sees in his eyes.

She touches his cheek.

"Please," she asks, her voice steady and strong.

He kisses her again, pulling her closer against him. So close, that she can feel something trapped between them. Gingerly she runs her hand down his waist and over his hip. He is so warm there, much warmer than his back was earlier. She takes the hem of his vest between her fingers and slowly raises it.

His skin is silky and she can feel the stretch marks reminding her that her husband was once a young boy shooting up. She knows he'll discover the same marks when he touches her belly and later, her breasts. She bites down on her lip when she thinks that it won't be long before she'll feel his hands on her bare skin; in delicate places.

There's a strange feeling just under her navel - like a wire slowly being pulled tight. She doesn't know how to make it stop; she isn't sure she wants it to stop. The tightening intensifies when the wandering fingers stop finding their way and cup her bum. His palm is flat against her flesh and she hides her face in the crook of her husband's neck to hide the flush that has shot to her cheeks.

He pushes against her, his hand gentle on her shoulder. She rolls back and Charles stares at her. The sound of seagulls flying overhead and the rumbling of motorcars passing by in the street fade to the background. The hand that was on her bum now strokes the satin of her camisole before returning to his own vest, and he divests himself of it in a long, sweeping movement.

There's more hair on his chest. Not much, but springy and almost silvery white. She reaches out to touch it. She can feel his heart beat against her hand.

Charles's fingertips are cold on her skin and she closes her eyes as she can feel gooseflesh rise. Her nipples strain against the satin he is slowly bunching up under her back.

He leans over her and kisses the softness of her belly and upwards to where her breastbone is. Then his hands are on her rib cage - on either side and his touch is reverent and he doesn't rush. There are more kisses and then the fingertip of his middle finger bumps against the rise of her left breast.

There's a look of concentration on his face and she can feel the longing in his trembling hand. She wiggles slightly and presses her lips together when she feels the heat _down there_ and the sudden thrill that she's not often felt before.

His fingers brush over her nipple.

"Oh my…" she breathes.

There's a glimmer of a smile stealing over her husband's face and she arches into his touch. Another brush and a kiss on her cheek. Her breathing is erratic as she glides her hands over her husband's chest. His thumb caresses the mark the doctor left behind.

"Oh my girl…" he whispers and helps her out of her camisole. She doesn't pay attention to where the satin undergarment ends up: she is too preoccupied by trying not to hide from her husband's gaze. His eyes move from her lips to her breasts and further down. They linger at the elastic waistband of her underwear and she peeks at his shorts as well.

He lies down beside her and touches her shoulder. A fingertip over her collarbone. His hand cupping her breast, making her breath shudder. A stroking motion down her back and palming her bum. Her arms coming to rest around his neck, her lips seeking his again.

She cannot kiss him enough.

His lips are supple against hers and she loves the feeling of his soft hand running over her waist and pulling her over him. She is feeling so warm even though the evening air is cool and the breeze from the window steals through the room.

Her skin tingles and she exhales sharply when Charles fondles her breast again. His lips explore the swell of her breast and she digs her nails into his back when he touches her nipple with the tip of his tongue.

He pulls back to look at her and turns. For a moment she worries, but she is relieved when he turns on the bedside lamp.

"I hope you don't mind," he rumbles and she shakes her head.

"I'd just like to see you."

She stretches out her arm to him and he takes her hand before settling beside her and returns to the delightful exploring he started.

With every touch they become more daring. They leave behind their protection; their guard: there's no chatelaine to announce her presence, no corseted armour, no carefully pinned down curls and braid. No stiff, starched collars and commanding voice.

He touches her breasts and kisses the scar - she has no doubt they'll talk about it one day soon, but for now he traces the outline of her ribs and circles her navel. She kisses his shoulder and collarbone. Runs her fingertips over his breastbone. Touches the scar that runs from his side towards his chest. One day she'll ask him about that one too, but not now.

Her breath feels warm against her cheek as she rubs her forehead against her husband's chest. He is toying with the waistband of her knickers and she lets her legs fall open. Charles kneels between them and she can feel the heat and heavy firmness of him against her. They rock, knickers against shorts. They kiss frantically; she is so warm and the tightening feeling that was below her navel has spread throughout her body.

"I love you…" he murmurs so quietly she can hardly hear him, but she holds on to him, responding that she loves him, too.

Always.

He starts pulling at her underwear and she helps him by lifting her bottom off the bed. She is bare before him. For the first time. He's the only man who has ever seen her like this and she fumbles with the sheets as she awaits his reaction.

"You're magnificent…" he says and he pushes down his shorts.

She daren't look.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you everybody for your kindness, your support and your encouragement. It means a great deal to me - more than I could ever hope to express.


	5. Chapter 5

He covers them before she finds the courage to look and she snuggles against him, trying to steady the nerves that have come rushing back. They mingle with the excitement that's been building. Charles's hand is sliding down her shoulder and over her arm as he kisses her cheek. She puts her arm around his waist and tries not to think so hard.

After all, she contemplates, making should come naturally; and she isn't much different from other women, nor is Charles different from other men.

Even if he is lying right there beside her, without any of his clothes on.

His hand is low on her waist and she knows that he'll be pushing her knickers down soon. The thrill of feeling him touch her so intimately is chasing away the fear and the worry, especially when Charles's lips are on the swell of her breast and trace the scar Doctor Clarkson left behind. When he experimentally sucks on the nipple and grazes it with his teeth, she arches her back and her hand grips the sheet.

She lets out a sound she's not made before and she can feel Charles's smile against her skin. She bites her lip. His hand smoothes down her side, over the satin of her underwear and over her thigh. She can feel his fingers run over the imprints of where her garters had been earlier. His hand is warm and his touch unfaltering.

Her legs part automatically when his hand slides towards the delicate skin of her inner thigh and the back of his thumb brushes over her knickers and she can feel little sparks at the moment of friction. She wiggles a little, just to feel it again. Charles raises himself up and the blankets are high above them, letting in a gust of cooler air.

Charles clambers to his knees and puts one between hers. His gaze is locked to the last scrap of fabric that covers her and he reaches out. Carefully he takes the elastic waistband between finger and thumb and inches them down slowly.

Elsie keeps her eyes on her husband's face, watching his every reaction. His look of intense concentration reminds her of the way he pours wine from the bottle into the decanter.

With him so engrossed by his task of ridding her of her knickers, she finally throws a glance at where his pants had been. She swallows hard when she sees it. It's rather bigger than she imagined it might be and her muscles tighten.

But her panicked thoughts about how it is ever going to fit and the fear of it going to hurt terribly are momentarily swept away as her husband has managed to move her underwear down her legs and is now patiently taking them even further off, the flat of one hand on her leg, the other on the satin.

After he drops the underwear on the floor, he looks at her and with a shy smile he says:

"I've never seen such beauty before…"

She can feel a blush colouring her cheeks and a smile breaks through and she leans up a bit, cups his cheek for a moment, rubbing her thumb over the faint stubble that is coming in.

Charles's focus is returns to where her knickers were. He bends over her, kissing her lips, her cheeks and the tips of her breasts. His hands skim her belly and a kiss lands on her navel. Fingers run through the wiry curls that cover her and the tingling feeling returns.

When he kisses her, his body covering hers and she can feel him heavy against her, soft and hard at the same time.

It twitches when she moans softly. His sweet, suckling kisses in her neck are driving her to distraction. She pulls at him. The skin of his shoulders is silky and his body feels firm and strong. He holds himself up on his elbows and never breaks contact between them. Her body moves with his when he pulls his other leg in.

There they are: knees are touching knees. Hardness touches curls.

Charles strokes her hair and tucks a strand behind her ear. She can feel him trying to keep his breathing in check and that he is exercising enormous restraint. He presses against her more firmly and she raises her knee.

"Are you sure?" he asks and she nods.

Charles pushes forward.

Nothing much happens.

There's the feeling of not-quite-dry curls being pressed against her by him. He groans a bit and she sees his eyes are closed.

He pulls back and pushes again. Nothing changes until she raises her other knee too. The curls are forced to the side as he slides between with a sigh. More moisture seeps against the hardness of him and he makes another noise. He pulls back again and with a trembling hand he raises her calf, silently urging her to wrap her legs around his waist.

She does as she is bidden, suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed.

He presses again and there's a stuttering feeling and the start of being breached. She balls her fist as Charles tilts his head back. His hands are on either side of her shoulders. She turns her head and kisses his wrist and he gives her a look of love and determination.

Another push and he's slowly invading her with even pressure and she tries to stay calm as the pleasant tingles of earlier are replaced by a sharp, almost burning sensation. She suppresses the whimper she feels welling up and she can feel her husband slide further, connecting them further.

There's a drop of perspiration running slowly from Charles's forehead to his temple. He is not moving anymore, but looks down on her adoringly.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

"I think so," she says.

"Does it hurt?"

She pauses. "Not very much," she says and he frowns.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright," she tries to reassure him.

He pulls out a bit and pushes back in. Tiny little movements that are designed to help her get used to his girth. The sharp pain subsides, though the burning remains, but luckily the tingling feeling returns. When she opens her mouth, a moan escapes.

Charles kisses the hollow between her collarbones and she puts her hands on his cheeks, pulls him closer and kisses him softly.

"Better?" he asks.

"Much better," she says and kisses him again.

Together they slowly rock back and forth. The bed creaks with their efforts. The sounds of Elsie's soft, low moans mingle with her husband's laboured breaths and outside the night falls, covering the room in darkness around the soft glow of the lamp.

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope you're not too terribly disappointed.  
A big 'thank you' to everyone who keeps encouraging me. You are all very wonderful.


	6. Chapter 6

The pain has subsided and a feeling of closeness and connection has taken it's place. Charles softly kisses her, he whispers things she cannot make out. She smiles at him, cups his cheek. Their movements become more fluid as they get used to the unfamiliar feeling of being joined together.

She's never felt this close to anyone; it's not just the weight of him on top of her, nor having him between her legs. It's the pleasure she gives him. The way she can feel his love for her radiate off him. The look in his eyes makes her heart fill with happiness.

Her ankles uncross behind Charles's back and Charles's thrusts become more sweeping; the bed creaks louder. Elsie closes her eyes and her back arches as the pleasant tightening returns with the way Charles slides into her.

His pace quickens as she clings on to him, her arms around him. He is breathing hard and his lips are on her forehead, her breasts no longer swaying as they are trapped between their bodies. There are noises coming from her mouth, loud enough to hear, loud enough to make her worry Charles will find her shameless, wanton even.

But her worries are silences as her husband suddenly stills and quietly groans and shudders. There's abrupt feeling of warmth down below and Charles only just manages to break his fall. He is panting and his cheeks are red. Perspiration glistens on his forehead and the soft curls at the nape of his neck are wet.

"Thank you…" he manages to say in between heaving breaths.

She doesn't say anything. They are no longer moving. The tightening has stopped. She can feel him slipping from her and the burning that had dissipated returns. Charles moves away from between her legs with Herculean effort and lays down beside her, stroking her hair and her face. He looks tired and sleepy.

Spent.

She is feeling remarkable awake.

"Are you alright?" Charles asks.

"I am. Are you?"

A brilliant smile gives her all the answer she needs. His kiss, tender and sweet makes her heart race again. He stifles a yawn.

"It's been a long day," she says and he nods, already falling asleep.

He puts his arm around her and pulls her closer. They kiss one more time, and she watches her husband drift off.

She turns to her back and feels something slipping from her. She quickly raises from the bed and makes her way to the en suite - luxury above all others - picking up her slip from the floor and pulling it over her head.

* * *

The curtains don't hold back the light of the morning sun and Elsie lies on her side, watching her husband sleep. He looks the same as he did before, though slumber relaxes the wrinkles around his eyes. She runs her hand through his hair and cuddles up closer. Her lower back and inner thighs protest a little and she kisses her husband's shoulder, remembering what makes her body feel heavy and her muscles sore.

For a moment, Elsie considers that her husband is the key to her lock - both had been unused for the longest time, but fit together perfectly. She smiles. Together they have opened up a whole new world to be explored.

Next to her, Charles is stirring.

She kisses his cheek. His stubble prickles her lips.

"Goodmorning," she whispers.

"Hmm…" he protests and puts his hand on her hip, squeezing her softly. His fingers don't cooperate yet. His palm slides over onto her bottom and he pulls her closer. He nuzzles the top of her head, kisses her brow.

"Go back to sleep," he mumbles.

"I can't," she says. Her voice sounds clear in the quiet room. Outside the world is waking up and the sounds of traffic and crashing waves mingle together.

"Why not?"

He doesn't open his eyes, but his hand is pulling her shift up and she can feel his fingertips dance over her lower back.

"I think having spent a lifetime in service has made sleeping in impossible."

"Hmm."

She shakes her head a little and kisses his cheek.

"Give me a moment…" he says voice deep with sleep.

She cuddles up closer and his hand cups her bum, then slides down and pulls up her shift.

"What are you doing?" she whispers.

"Nothing," he says and she can hear his smile.

She stifles a giggles against his shoulder and lays her hand on his chest. He pulls her closer. Kisses her brow again, then her cheek. Her lips. Softly. His lips are a little chapped, as she imagines hers are.

"If this is 'nothing', Mr Carson, I'd like to know what 'something' would be," she whispers in his ear.

Charles looks at her then and raises the shift, exposing her inch by inch.

The sunshine creeps in through a crack between the curtains and highlights his movements. He kisses the swell under her navel and palms her breast. He kisses the base of her neck and her lips. He touches her sides with his palms. He is strong - she is reminded of that time he helped break up the fight between William and Thomas - and pulls her right on top of him.

When she has one leg on either side of him, she can feel him hard under her, but he kisses her deeply before she can think too much about it.

When she wiggles, she gasps from the sensation of him sliding against something hidden.

She can feel the colour rising in her cheeks and suddenly she is very aware that she is naked, on top of her husband _in broad daylight_. He steadies her with his hands on her hips and a gentle upwards lunge makes her let out a startled little "Oh!"

Another movement of his makes her cover her mouth. His hand reaching up to cup her breast chases all thoughts of people hearing them from her mind.

* * *

Outside the sound of cars is swelling; cries of seagulls fill the air.

In the corridor, guests are shaking their heads at the sound of a creaking bed coming from the room on the first floor.

"Must be newlyweds," a man says to his wife.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you everybody for your support throughout this whole fic. You've been tremendously encouraging, kind in your praise and steadfast in your patience. Charles and Elsie will continue to explore this whole new side of life and I've no doubt they'll greatly enjoy it.  
I'll be moving on to my NaNoWriMo for editing, rereading and more editing and I hope to see you all for that one, too.  
Thanks again, everybody.


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